


White Pepper

by ammehsuor



Series: Cough Drop Kisses [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Consider yourself forewarned lol, Enters kink territory multiple times, Fluff, Is it still fluff if I need smelling salts nearby while I write this, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-09 15:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ammehsuor/pseuds/ammehsuor
Summary: If there's one thing that can crack Goro Akechi's armor, it's bowing to the usual ills of winter. Luckily, Akira knows just how to help, though one has to wonder why he's so interested.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sup lads i'm gross.  
> i know this kind of fic is pretty niche but i tried to make the fluff enticing enough for everyone to enjoy. who doesn't like the thought of akira taking care of them
> 
> dedicated to JD_Riley, a.k.a. the only reason this will ever see the light of day here. god bless.

It wasn’t that Akechi _minded_ staying late at the studio for scripting. Any other day, it just meant free refreshments and a reason to avoid returning home. He’d never liked the winter in a single one of its most beautiful settings; this was no different, except the train station was even more crowded at night when all he wanted to do was sit down and be anywhere near his complex. Today was not the day to be tested.

He’d been rubbing his temples every moment the cameras stayed off his person, trained on a busty young anchor instead. Silently he regarded her as his savior. Her drawn-out segment gave Akechi a moment to slip away unnoticed, inching into the back hall guest lounge and locking the door behind him.

It started yesterday. Maybe the day before; he didn’t care enough to remember, wincing at the growing ache creeping across the side of his throat. It was so tempting to swallow and test the soreness, but he didn’t want an inevitable reminder that being in cold, crowded places with a poor diet and sleep schedule had finally caught up to him.

Akechi didn’t bother asking for a pain pill, though he desperately wanted one. Falling asleep on the lukewarm train ride home was better than nothing. It wouldn’t happen if his head kept throbbing like this, but the station’s staff were all the worrying type, and Akechi didn’t want his weakness thrown back at him via texts and calls to “check up.” Regardless, that nap needed to happen; his apartment was absurdly cold, and the thermostat wouldn’t be getting fixed until tomorrow morning. Just remembering that he had to be out of there early while they did repairs made his shoulders feel heavy.

The cold apartment was probably what finally did him in, but the thought filtered right through his mind. He begrudgingly shoved a tissue in his pocket and headed back to the set for a couple more excruciating hours.

* * *

Headphones helped drown out the awful sounds of everyone who suffered from whatever given ailment on the train. Barely, of course. Listening to anything loud just made the headache worse, so Akechi chose ambient music and pretended the muffled noises beyond his meditative haze weren’t happening at all.

Being truly _warm_ for once made a difference. He cleared his throat gently, trying to soothe a stubborn patch of soreness nestled deep within it. _Damn it._ If there was one thing he hated, it was getting sick, but that barely edged out the annoyance of others inquiring about his health all day long. Akechi wore illness rather prominently, after all; one winter a local gossip paper made a short mention that he was spotted looking unwell, and half a dozen cards turned up at his office the next day. People always want to fuss over the worn-out trainee detective, but he managed just fine on his own. “Managing” via one packet of zero-nutrition instant noodles a day probably helped get him into this situation, but… still. 

He turned to look out the window. Cold stars peeked over the receding city skyline, clear and deceptively burning with light. His frigid apartment sat three stops away. The café he frequented after a shoot wrapped up early… well, that was two stops away. One hour left until closing. Akechi wasn’t in any mood to sit hunched over a bar, trying to absorb every bit of heat from a tiny cup of coffee, but going home now didn’t seem much better. Was it rude to show up an hour before closing? It was just coffee, after all. Not much preparation or cleanup necessary.

He fidgeted, glancing restlessly at the landmarks passing by before the last two stops. There was really no point in going to the café for one hour, just to catch an even later train and return to an even colder bed. But when the train stopped, and the line of people heading out the door bought him a moment to hit the panic button, he gave in and stood up despite the inevitable head rush.

As he feared, it was absolutely freezing outside. No cloud cover made the wind even worse, and yet this town always stood quiet and steady. Dead air despite the clank of train tracks fading out behind him. It would have been peaceful, if he didn’t have such a horrible rattle in his chest just from breathing deep.

Off down a nearby alley, his favorite café glowed with soft light, outdoor speakers still humming with the rich notes of a saxophone.

Akechi really, _really_ hoped to see the owner here, and nobody else. Other customers recognizing him in such a wrecked state was bad enough, but a few days a week, a barista with curly black hair popped up in front of him, fully prepared to serve. The guy was his age; it made sense that he always wanted to converse, but to be honest, Akechi wasn’t very good at such casual interaction. He struggled to answer personal questions, struggled to come up with a list of interests. The barista had plenty to share. Akechi wondered why he spent any time on a dull TV personality with little to offer.

Luck didn’t seem to favor him lately. The moment he walked inside, a full-body shiver surged up his spine; the barista was there, and turning his way already, leaving no chance to run.

“Been a while since you last came in, superstar.” The boy crossed his arms on the bar and stretched down onto them, like a cat. “Did you want the usual? I don’t have any dark roast left, but I can add espresso.”

Akechi shrugged and dropped his briefcase by the corner stool. Responding at all would give away his position, if the pallor of his complexion did not. He hadn’t even heard his own voice in hours. Coffee with cream was “the usual,” but he distantly remembered that it can make a cough worse. The last thing he wanted was to break into an uncontrollable fit in front of… _Akira,_ right, his stupid nametag was pinned to a different spot every time.

Akira observed him as he scanned the room: pure emptiness, save for the music and an older businessman with a Bluetooth earpiece, caring none for anything except the newspaper sprawled out in front of him. Had Akechi wanted the distraction of other customers, or did he want it empty like this? Suddenly he couldn’t remember.

“Hey.” Akira waved a hand. “You doing okay? I assumed it was a long day, since you never come here this late, but you seem really out of it.”

Akechi cleared his throat gingerly in preparation to reply, but this only ignited a ragged cough that did _not_ sound healthy. The barista’s expression changed considerably, but he said nothing as Akechi got himself together.

“No, I’m fine. You’re right. Just a long day.” Another cough. God, he was never going to sell this.

“If you say so.” Akira rummaged under the counter and presented a large mug. “We just got a shipment of tea from a new supplier. The green mint is really delicious. Good for this kind of weather, when everyone seems to get sick.” His smile was filled with fake innocence.

Akechi just nodded at his lap, fists clenching involuntarily.

Thankfully, Akira was considerate of his desire to sit and stare at the TV or his cell phone for a while. Akechi didn’t need to say anything; for the last hour, the green tea was fresh and refilled every time he looked down, and the soft blue-tinted light of his cellphone screen helped to keep him from dozing off. The phone sat propped up against a napkin dispenser playing a news clip when it began vibrating violently.

Akechi scrambled for it without reading the number. “Y-yes?”

“Ah, is this the tenant of 209 down at Odawara complex?”

He perked up immediately. “Yes, it is. I don’t suppose Hattori-san had you stop by for the thermostat?”

“Yeah. He unlocked the room since we were cleared to come during your provided work hours, and we really wanted to storm through this given how the forecast looks…”

“Thank you so much, I couldn’t-”

“I-I’m sorry, but I actually called to tell you that we couldn’t fix it this evening. It’s an old building. Damn thing needs some older parts, so we’re sending a guy out to Akihabara for an order tomorrow morning. Luckily we showed up tonight or else we wouldn’t have realized until later. At this rate we’re looking to get it repaired by Thursday night.”

 _T_ _hursday._ Two days away. Akechi was quiet.

“I would’ve called earlier, but the inspection just ended about fifteen minutes ago. Do you have a place to stay? I have permission to put you up at a nearby hotel until we finish. Nothing fancy, but the heat works.” He had the nerve to chuckle.

“I… yes, I might have to take you up on that. I have no other options for lodging. Is Thursday the latest estimate on the repair?”

“Thursday at the latest. I really do apologize, sir. The hotels in Odawara are pretty nice even on the low end, so I’m happy to offer that.”

“I appreciate it.”

Akechi didn’t want to chat much longer beyond sorting out the info for a hotel reservation. By the time he got off the phone, his tea was cold and it was ten minutes past closing.

“I’m so sorry, Akira-kun…” He began to dig for his wallet, only for the barista to stop him.

“On the house. And you can just call me Akira.” The last few clean dishes found their way into the cupboard, and he slid back over to the bar. “You have work going on at your apartment? Were you looking for a place to stay?”

“Ah. No, luckily I was given an option. The repair company we use had a few delays, so they put me up at a local hotel.”

“For a thermostat, right? How long was it broken?”

“About three days now.”

“Geez, that sucks. No wonder you’re so sick.”

Akechi dropped his wallet, and dropped it yet again while trying to recover. “What? I’m fine. You don’t get sick from a broken thermostat, you know. That’s a myth.”

“Of course.” Akira rested his chin in his palm and grinned. “But it does keep your immune system pretty weak, especially if you’re stressed. And I don’t know many people who pronounce ‘thermostat’ as ‘therbostat,’ either.”

Akechi flushed deeply and pulled his coat tight around his waist. This insufferable barista was not seriously _teasing_ him.

But his smile quickly turned into concern. “Really, though. Take care of yourself.”

“To be honest, I’m not good at that,” Akechi admitted. “You always ask what I like to do, but I only know what I _don’t_ do. I can’t cook much, I can’t keep a normal sleep schedule, and I can’t even remember which days you work here.”

“Depends on the week. Schedule’s up on the bulletin board, posted two weeks in advance. Though I am curious about why you’re asking.”

“I don’t know…” Akechi leaned back dangerously far, running cold hands down his face. His cheeks felt unusually hot against them. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

“Considering how quiet you are every other time I see you, you’re probably trying to say that you’re getting a fever,” Akira said. There was an odd edge of nervousness in his voice, as if he was having a hard time choosing the right words.

When Akechi didn’t respond, shielded behind his own hands, Akira walked into the corner and pulled an old box down from the shelf. He fished around for a bottle; it clattered slightly, only a few pills left inside.

“This should get you through the ride to your hotel,” he said, carefully pulling one of Akechi’s hands down and closing his fingers over the red capsule. “Hot shower and tea in the morning, if they have it.”

“I’ll just come here if they don’t. I was looking forward to finishing a book on my only day off this week, but there’s no point showing up and getting in the workers’ way. And I’m sick of the train.”

“I’ll say.” Akira just laughed at the tired glare he received for that.

Taking the pill was essentially admitting he was sick enough to need it, but Akechi’s limbs were heavier than lead at this point; it felt useless to keep fighting with so little energy. He swallowed it with a mouthful of cold tea, holding back another ragged cough. 

“I might see you here tomorrow, then,” he mumbled, gathering his things and bracing for the trip outside.

“Nah.” The barista pointed to the bulletin board next to the door. “I’m off tomorrow, too.”

Akechi really didn’t like the way his heart dropped after hearing that. Akira remained stone-faced as he continued.

“Did you want to see me tomorrow?”

“It’s nice to have someone around who makes chatting worthwhile,” Akechi admitted.

“Then we should hang out. If your plans really did fall through, I can probably think of something even more fun than reading at home.” The sly expression Akechi expected from him didn’t show up. “Plus, someone’s gotta look after you. And make sure you eat, since I doubt you will. Win-win, right? I’ll even swing by here later than I’d like, if you wanted to have tea first.”

“You’re welcome to be here when I arrive. It’s your shop.”

“It’s actually Sakura-san’s shop, but I get what you mean.” The Cheshire grin finally appeared as Akira stepped over to the door, flicking off a few overhead lights. “A chance to talk when I’m not on the opposite side of the counter? I couldn’t turn _that_ down.”

“Even when I’m sick as all hell. You’re unbelievable.”

“Believe me, looking after you isn’t a downside at all.”

Good God. Akira was always like this. He absolutely loved to corner Akechi the moment the walls came down, catching him off guard, making him feel vulnerable and trapped all at once. Of course his flirtations didn’t mean much of anything. The thought of a full _day_ of it made Akechi’s stomach twist. Now was not a good time to be on edge.

Although… he never was the type to turn down a challenge. He pulled out his phone and whipped back to Akira with a pointed smile.

“Then it’s decided. Why don’t you give me your number, and we can sort things out in the morning?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

A few taps in their contact lists and a turn of the key later, and Akira was finally free of him.

“Thank you for putting up with me past closing. I didn’t mean to stay so long.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Akira laughed. “I like talking to you.”

“I don’t quite understand why,” Akechi said quietly. He probably failed to hide the sullen bewilderment behind those words.

“Really? I’ll try to be more transparent in the future, then.”

The barista tossed his stained apron into a shoulder bag and traded it for a thick, striped scarf. Akechi did his best to avoid looking supremely envious. Whatever face he did end up making betrayed him anyway.

“See something you like?” Akira grinned, all perfect teeth, and Akechi immediately turned, hoping the flush of fever hid the one of embarrassment.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Talk to you _toborrow,_ ” Akira mimicked.

* * *

Akechi collapsed into the hotel bed after an exhausting conversation with the front desk about who the hell he actually was. They’d misheard how to spell his name when the repairman called to reserve a room, and couldn’t find the listing for love nor money in the digital booking system. Akechi helped them try possible typos and finally struck gold after… a dozen or so? Whatever. He was in no state to complain.

Hot shower water felt like the kind of heaven Akechi never wanted to leave. Familiar hints of chlorine and medicinal lotion clung to every pillow, every towel he carefully massaged over sensitive skin. After using his voice for a bit, the harsh sting of his throat had finally calmed to a dull ache, and that was all it took to get him comfortable enough for sleep in a welcoming stack of fluffy blankets.

He vaguely regarded the buzz of Akira sending a text to confirm his contact information. The need for sleep overpowered the obligation to respond.

It felt like mere minutes passed before a shrill alarm jolted Akechi awake, and the second his vision registered sunlight, he snapped forward into the mountain of duvet and sneezed violently.

 _Ugh. You’ve got to be kidding._ He pulled away, disgusted. The clock read 10 a.m., which left one hour to salvage his complexion before heading to the station, and oh, did it need to be salvaged; the moment he walked into the bathroom, he considered not even trying to make these plans work out.

Akechi felt better- much better, actually, but red-stained patches on his cheeks and circles under his eyes the color of deep bruises painted him as someone who only belonged in bed. Absolutely anyone could tell he was sick, and not just a little bit sick, either. He couldn’t imagine Akira wanted to wander the city next to the ghost he resembled, yet the text sitting on Akechi’s phone when he solemnly returned to bed said otherwise. He leaned against the headboard and opened it, massaging his temple.

[10:04] _morning, superstar. how’s your cold_

Something about the way Akira worded that, like it was somehow a _possession_ of sorts, fueled the snark in his answer.

[10:06] _I do feel better, but you wouldn’t know by looking. At this rate it’s going to be your cold too, you know. Are you sure you want to hang out today? We can always reschedule._

Akira seemed like the type to reply instantly, but the phone screen didn’t light up until Akechi was already dressed.

[10:42] _you worry too much lol. who knows when i’ll have another full day free, let alone one that works for you. of course if you are feeling worse we’d just need to work out another time. i’d feel horrible dragging you around_

Akechi snickered, swallowing the urge to cough.

[10:43] _Now who’s worrying too much? I need to get out and walk around anyway. Just don’t pity me when I show up._

[10:43] _the only thing i pity is the mental image of you eating cheez-its from the hotel vending machine. because we both know that’s what you’d do today otherwise_

[10:44] _Please. I’d at least go for a breakfast bar._

[10:44] _and yet i still i feel pity. hmm_

[10:45] _You’ll have time to feel all the pity you want on the train. I’m heading down to the station, so I’ll be arriving around 11:30._

[10:46] _dress warm_

Akechi did note that these replies came much faster, but there wasn’t much time to think about it. He packed his case with a bottled water and a handful of rough hotel tissues. Maybe one of the convenience stores near the café had pain pills… and something to help even out the palette of sickness that made him recoil whenever he caught his reflection. 

He boarded the train a short walk later, and immediately zoned out in preparation for the long day ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you very soon for a rather telling point-of-view change lol


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Point of view changes. Shenanigans ensue.

Akira checked his phone: 11:35. He got to the café before Akechi despite leaving late. There was probably no need to worry, but if the detective was half as bad as yesterday, it wasn't unlikely that he fell asleep on the train or something.

"You hanging out with that kid today?" His boss stopped over to refill Akira's coffee. "Poor guy looked half alive. I wouldn't draw this out. Don't want you taking off suddenly just because you insisted on this and got yourself sick."

"It'll be fine, Sakura-san. Just want to make sure he actually takes care of himself."

The old man shrugged at such an inflated answer. Akira chewed on a nail and checked his phone again.

No new messages, of course. He ended up scrolling through the old ones. Even Akechi's texts conveyed his tone so well, the words echoing clear in Akira's head.

_At this rate it's going to be your cold too, you know._

He groaned, hating the way that phrase made his pulse go wild. Maybe he wasn't quite ready for this.

On weeknights, the detective always busied himself in a corner, going over case files, scrubbing through darkened security footage, brow furrowed in concentration. It was hard to avoid getting distracted by someone so devoted to grunt work, especially when he looked like a model doing it. Luckily he often faced the wall and didn’t catch Akira stealing a glance now and then. His uniform emblem was from a different university, a private school far beyond the reach of the smartest people Akira knew. They mainly recruited via scholarship for students of law and criminal justice. Someone like that couldn’t possibly be uninteresting.

Akechi had plenty of manners and plenty of work, but he always showed up alone- always ordered the same thing, and left at the same time. Akira wanted to catch him on a day off, but he never seemed to be without a mountain of tasks. At some point he began sitting at the bar more often. Even then he had little to say, but the warm glint in his eyes finally rested on Akira for minutes at a time, and he knew the cryptic attitude was more about modesty rather than honesty. Either he had nothing but trophies in his cabinet, or nothing but skeletons in his closet; Akira became determined to find out which.

He didn’t expect his opportunity to come in the form of a shivering, pathetic Akechi with no work and _nothing to do for two days._ Whatever he could get, he supposed. Convenience was the only reason Akira jumped at the chance to take him out the next day. Just convenience. Absolutely.

Truth be told, he had no real plan, and whatever loose ideas he’d managed to throw together in the five minutes before Akechi arrived completely shattered once the detective showed up.

He took none of Akira’s advice to dress warm. Same briefcase, same tan peacoat (a fall jacket, of all things). It was as if he didn’t care at all, dusting snow off his gloves, sitting down on a free stool and immediately dropping his head into his arms on the bar with a quiet groan. A few moments of silence, and he peeked up, eyes glassy, hair dripping with melting snow.

“Good morning. Believe me, I know this isn’t a good look on me.”

“Uh… tea, then?” Suddenly Akira found his vocabulary rather limited.

They opted to take the drinks to-go and catch a train before early afternoon crowds started to fill the city. Akechi sat a good distance from Akira, which was odd, considering the seat was completely empty.

“You can actually sit next to me. I don’t bite.”

Akechi held the travel cup to his chin, squinting at nothing in particular before sliding over ever so slightly. “It’s not you. I still have a fever, so I didn’t want to get too close.”

“Again with the worrying,” Akira muttered. He gambled on closing more distance and pulled a thick striped scarf from his bag, wrapping it around Akechi, feeling hot breath ghost across his hand as wide eyes turned to him.

“What are you doing?”

“I saw you staring at this yesterday. I’m assuming you don’t own a winter scarf.”

“I certainly do. Don’t let me borrow this when I’m-”

“Hush.” Akira grit his teeth. “I wasn’t joking around last night; you need to cover your chest in the winter. It’s a bad idea to dress like that when you’re not feeling well. I’m still suspicious that you forced yourself to come today.”

“I look way worse than I feel, so it wasn’t an issue. Aren’t you lucky.”

Akira closed his eyes. _Oh, you have no idea._

He let Akechi stare fixedly at the posters opposite them, holding onto the cup of tea for dear life, and spent that time looking up a few places between their hometowns that might be worth visiting.

“Anywhere you want to go in particular?”

“Mm… I could’ve sworn this was your idea.” Akechi smiled wryly, flushed from the steam and the fever. “I do need to pick up the next book in my series. My local store isn’t on the way home from work so I rarely get to visit.” He reached over and zoomed in on the mobile map, adding a pin to the location.

“I’m on board, but only if I can choose where we get lunch.”

Akechi glanced sideways. “…I didn’t realize we were getting lunch as well.”

“Gotta make sure you eat properly.” Akira shrugged. “Seems pretty par for the course. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but I did have a really good place in mind pretty close to here. My treat.”

“You are really something else. I don’t understand why you’re being so nice. It’s not like we’re on a date.”

_Ouch._

“Well, you patronize the shop often enough. This is my way of saying thanks. Plus, with how often you stop by, it’d be nice to get to know each other a bit more, right? You seem like someone who doesn’t have a lot of free time to socialize.”

Akechi was quiet. Bullseye.

“My job is demanding,” he said. “But I’m used to taking care of myself.”

“So let someone else take care of you for a change.”

Akira immediately colored from the poor choice of words, but Akechi was unfazed. In fact, his shoulders seemed to relax a bit.

“Akira. I hope you won’t be offended if I’m wrong, but… _is_ this a date?”

“Would you like it to be?”

The words escaped his lips without hesitation, and Akira braced himself with clenched teeth. Akechi looked exasperated as he sank back into the seat.

“I was starting to think you’d never ask.”

* * *

It only took two minutes at the bookstore for Akira to realize he’d never seen Akechi so happy. He knew exactly where to go, scanning the shelves and beaming when he spotted what he was looking for.

“Thank goodness they have it. Normally it takes them weeks to get new releases.” He leafed through the pages. Akira peered at the book, and nearly choked on a sip of coffee.

It was a collection of shoujo manga; the spine read _Volume 12._ Meaning, volumes one through eleven sat somewhere in Akechi’s apartment, and these books weren’t cheap.

He bit back any related questions all the way until they sat down for lunch. He figured this was good timing; Akechi was starting to look a bit exhausted already, probably from not eating breakfast. Akira ordered for both of them and basically forced the complimentary vegetable rolls on Akechi following much protest. He waited patiently for the first one to disappear before starting any conversation.

“You didn’t strike me as the type to like manga.”

Akechi hesitated. “Oh. Well, I’ve followed a few series since I was a kid, so I suppose it never left me.” He poked at a half-eaten roll with a fork. “Did you think I was more mature because I’m a detective in training?”

“Not exactly, but I always ask about your interests. Books never came up. I think it’s pretty interesting.”

The extended silence planted a seed of worry in Akira’s stomach. Maybe bringing it up was a bad idea after all. He didn’t want to come off as judgmental.

Akechi put the fork down.

“I don’t… talk about my interests that often, because I find it hard to believe anyone actually wants to listen. My mother was the one who first read these books with me when I was young, thinking I needed more optimism as a kid being raised to enter criminal justice. My father hated it then, and despised it even more when I’d read them after she passed away. He threw out her old copies and told me to grow up.”

“Just for reading a comic? Even if it’s mostly sentimental-”

“It’s a little stupid, right?” Akechi pulled out the softcover and looked at it with a hint of shame before dropping it back in the bag. “My father isn’t wrong; this series is made for young girls. I’m in college. I probably should have moved on by now, but I just can’t.”

“It’s not stupid.” Akira fished out the book and put it back in his hands. “You can read whatever you want, for whatever reason. I’m sorry, but your dad needs to get a grip. You’re not any less of an adult or dedicated student because of it.”

Akechi just stared at him.

“As a matter of fact, think about how _cool_ it is that the series is ongoing. It’s like those memories are still being built, even if she’s not physically with you. Did you replace the copies he threw out? If you didn’t, I think we should head back to the store after-”

He stopped abruptly once he realized Akechi was actually on the brink of tears.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive.”

“You weren’t. I just can’t believe… you thought the same thing. About the memories.”

Their waitress popped up with two steaming bowls of ramen, and was kind enough to not say much amongst the tension as she placed them on the table. Akechi scrubbed at his eyes and took a dramatic breath.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… thank you. Thank you for listening. I appreciate it a lot.” The smile on his face was genuine, barely obscured by Akira’s scarf.

Akira just nodded, trying not to overreact at how cute the entire exchange had been as they quietly focused on the food.

Akechi eventually spoke up. “This is really fancy for a ramen place.”

“I put some thought into it. They have house-made noodles and bone broth, which is a really good idea if you’re sick. I used to have it all the time in my hometown.” Akira looked up, only to notice he was nearly finished and Akechi had barely touched anything.

“Do you not like it?”

Akechi bit his lip. “It’s not that. I can’t really tell… it’s impossible to taste anything.”

“That’s okay. It’s still a good idea to eat even if you can’t taste it right now.”

“It just seems like such a waste.”

Akira sighed, but he understood the point. Eating was one of his least favorite things to do when he felt sick, especially with a sore throat.

“To be honest…” Akechi stirred the soup absentmindedly and winced as he swallowed. “I was late this morning because I picked up some medicine at the convenience store. The box said it would last all day, but I’m starting to doubt that.”

Akira watched him, mental gears turning. He weighed his options and finally decided to flag down the waitress.

“Can we get this to go?”

“Hey, we don’t have to leave. I should be fine for a little while longer.” Akechi’s voice was stern, but his expression was far more unsure.

“It’s supposed to storm by the time evening comes around, so why don’t we change the plan? I have a better idea.”

* * *

On the train back to the hotel, it didn’t take Akechi long to pass out on Akira’s shoulder. He probably didn’t mean to do it, but Akira was content to watch the detective relax, snoring almost inaudibly into the thick fabric of his scarf. Even then, Akira noted a subtle heat against his neck where the scarf wasn’t in between them, as if Akechi’s throat burned enough to produce a tangible flame. He couldn’t help but wonder how this would be different in private: both of them comfortable in bed as he adjusted to let Akechi snuggle closer in the haze of sleep, the rise and fall of his chest a soothing metronome away from the howling winds outside.

They stayed peaceful like this for a few minutes. Absently, Akira reached up and threaded his fingers into Akechi’s hair, stroking through soft brunette locks. The sensitive skin of his wrist brushed against the detective’s forehead and felt how high his fever must’ve been. Definitely contagious. Maybe not. He didn’t know. Didn’t really care, either.

Akechi stirred as the bell rang at their destination. He didn’t acknowledge Akira’s hands tangled up in his hair as they gingerly retreated, careful not to pull, while he stretched.

“So… convenience store, right?” The effort from talking dragged out a few rough coughs. He just sighed in defeat.

Akira followed him off the train and into the comfortable warmth of the station, trying to regain any semblance of composure.

* * *

They got to the hotel without too much fanfare, the wind generously holding back before likely unfurling like a bat out of hell later that evening. Akira insisted on carrying all the bags (he picked out some canned soup under the pretense that Akechi _must_ eat it) and let the detective handle unlocking the door.

Whatever repair company his apartment used had _really_ good customer service. The inside of the room screamed luxury accommodation: marbled countertops, a mini kitchen, and a floor-to-ceiling view of the city skyline. They even left a set of clothes and a silky robe folded up near the bathroom. Akira felt a hint of jealousy that his own apartment wasn’t nearly this nice.

“I think the repairman recognized my family name and tried to compensate,” Akechi said. “My father is fairly well known in the community. Frankly, I wouldn’t go to him if I were half dead at this point, but I won’t insist on a modest room if someone wants to offer me this.”

“Can’t blame you.” Akira placed their bags on the kitchen island. “Want me to heat up the ramen? You can change into something more comfortable, and we could put on a movie. I won’t stay too long. You definitely need some rest.”

Akechi complied, grumbling about being shoehorned into eating again. Akira turned on the TV and fiddled with a few of the light switches before settling on two mounted lamps with a soft glow next to the nightstand.

He’d almost forgotten where he was until Akechi crept out of the bathroom.

It hardly seemed possible, but he looked even more inviting like this: a deep burgundy sweater with cuffed sleeves, far too big but still appropriate for the weather; silky black pajama pants resting low on his hips; cheeks flushed so deep with fever, it completely gave away the lengths he’d gone to in an effort to hide it all day. If that wasn’t enough, he was _still wearing the scarf._ He gave Akira zero time to register just how insidious this was, settling nice and close on the bed, accepting the cup of ramen from trembling hands without a word.

None of the TV programs seemed to speak Akira’s language all of a sudden. He threw on a comedy movie and closed his eyes.

The thrum of his heart dulled a bit as Akechi ate with a little more enthusiasm.

“I can almost taste the broth, but… it’s very slight. This is so annoying.”

Akira was running out of ideas at this point. He reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a packet from the handful of condiments he grabbed at the restaurant.

“Try this. Just put a tiny bit on your tongue, and it might clear your head a bit.”

Akechi eyed the packet with suspicion. “What is it?”

“White pepper.” Akira tore it open and tapped a small amount into Akechi’s palm. “It’s not too harsh, but it can still wake up your senses.”

He traded the ramen for the pepper, grimacing at the sting on his tongue. Slowly, his eyes brightened.

“I can taste it. It’s not strong, but I can… sort of…”

Akechi had almost no time to react before burying his face in the scarf with a vicious sneeze. Akira turned to stone the instant it became two, and then three, each one more desperate than the last. He let out a groan, coughing into the heavy fabric.

“Ugh, I wasn’t careful with that.”

He looked up at Akira apologetically, about to say something else- and froze.

“Oh. Oh my god.” His hands flew to his neck, gripping the scarf. “This is yours. I totally forgot, and I just… oh god. I’m so sorr-”

He had no time to finish before Akira cut him off with a heated kiss.

At first Akechi didn’t respond past a pathetic squeak over the hum of the TV, but Akira coaxed his mouth open with a gentle press of fingers against his throat. He registered the faint taste of cherry medicine before Akechi abruptly broke away, a thin silver thread of saliva between them.

“Are you crazy? Do you not know what ‘contagious’ means?” Akechi’s voice was just above a whisper. “You just... am I missing something here?"

“…Yeah, you must be.” Akira tried to drain the desperation from his thoughts, but his mouth moved quicker. "Because you're _really_ cute like this."

"Um… why? Because I'm vulnerable or something?"

Akira sighed, hiding his burning cheeks against Akechi's neck. It did nothing to cool him off. "It's actually... just the opposite."

Akechi watched him carefully, waiting for more exposition, searching his eyes for _something_ \- until it suddenly seemed to click. He mouthed a quiet "oh," looking down at the bed. Akira buzzed with fear that he'd finally fucked this all up and began to back off, until Akechi grabbed his wrist so quickly that it made him gasp. The detective raised his head, far more assured than before, and it became clear that he better understood what was going on now, all but glaring down at an ever-shrinking Akira.

"You never fail to surprise me." Akechi raked his fingers through the back of Akira's hair and brought them both eye to eye. He looked tired, glazed over, but full of intent. "I thought you were acting a bit off, but figured I was reading into it too much. Then again, anyone else would have insisted we reschedule today." His breath near Akira's lips felt hot enough to singe. Akechi just cocked his head, delicate, relishing in watching the epitome of confidence as he squirmed. "Are you... _into_ this, then? Do you enjoy seeing me like this?"

"Just a little too much," Akira managed.

"I had a feeling." Fingers carded through black curls and tugged at them. "So you like the risk of being near me when I'm this sick- is that right?" He sounded barely self-conscious, as if there was still a chance he might _not_ be right, but Akira's nod melted the paranoia. "Unbelievable. I bet everyone who saw us together today looked at you, the picture of perfect health, and felt so badly for you. Because after you insisted on being so close to me all day, there's no way you're not _screwed._ "

Akira couldn't even move. This could not really be happening. Akechi wasn't just accepting Akira's admission- he was _kindling_ it. Daring it to manifest. Never in a million years did he think he'd get anywhere near this point, and now the detective was practically sitting in his lap, intimidating and worn and oh so tempting.

But Akechi stayed put, studying Akira like a caged animal before deciding on an offer.

“If you're still on the fence, I'll gladly seal your fate for you."

Akira made a mental note to call off work for a few days before finally giving in.

_Sorry, Sakura-san._

Akechi took to the kiss instantly, breathing when he could, and Akira felt it every single time he did. He held back on going any further, not wanting to appear as desperate as he was to taste more, to feel _more_ of the detective shivering against him. Akechi had no problem reciprocating, and Akira carefully ran his tongue across his bottom lip, begging him to keep opening up.

He complied rather quickly, and Akira absolutely savored the taste. Akechi probably tasted good all the time- he hoped to find out whether that was true- but the cold made him naturally sweet and metallic with infection. Akira's pulse thundered; he loved knowing he was completely at the mercy of this, and very likely to lose.

"You've got to be insane," Akechi huffed. He pulled back and grinned, forcing Akira to chase his lips. "I won't take care of you when you catch this."

His deliberate use of the word _when_ did not go unnoticed; Akira dug his nails into Akechi's thigh. "What can I do to convince you otherwise?"

"Hm... I'm sure I can come up with something. This hotel room is reserved for one more night, after all. It would be a waste to spend it alone." 

"I’m starting to regret my promise to not stay long,” Akira muttered.

“I know. But I do think one more night of rest will be good for me.” Akechi pressed a kiss to Akira’s cheek. “We can finish the movie now and pick the rest up tomorrow, if you want.”

"God yes.”

* * *

They walked to the hotel lobby together, but Akira insisted he could make the rest of the trip himself since Akechi was severely underdressed to go outside. To compensate, Akechi pulled the striped scarf up to his mouth and kissed it deliberately before draping it over Akira, wrapping it snug around his neck.

"For good measure."

Before he could pull back, Akira grabbed at his sleeves and stole one more real kiss. His heart fluttered at the hint of a satisfied sigh against his lips.

“I’m guessing we’ll have a reason to get together again soon.”

“Very likely.” Akechi smiled. “I anticipate you might be taking a few days off of work. So let me know if you want company, or just a warm place to stay.”

“My, how the turntables.”

Akechi shook his head and chuckled. “Shut up.”

Akira headed to the station hoping to catch the last train.

And, perhaps, a little more than that.

* * *

Akechi woke up to an unsurprisingly pounding headache. If anything, he did feel a bit more refreshed besides the pain; nothing a bit of medicine couldn’t solve. He cracked open a loose pill packet and reached blindly for his phone in the sunlight.

[11:29] _Good morning._

[11:30] _gmmrnng_

[11:30] _I assume you’re still half asleep… how are you feeling?_

[11:31] _take a guess lol_

Akechi was honestly surprised at how much his pulse raced at that answer. He typed carefully, trying to get a feel for the new territory.

[11:32] _You were warned. I hope you’re happy._

[11:33] _worth it. boss is not thrilled though. haha_

His thumb tapped nervously against the screen. It couldn’t hurt to make sure.

[11:33] _Akira._

[11:33] _mhmmm_

[11:34] _In all seriousness… are you happy?_

Every second felt like an hour as he waited for the reply.

[11:37] _you still have to ask even after last night? thought you were a detective_

[11:37] _i’m literally laying here waiting for you to invite me over lol_

He exhaled, recovering a little confidence.

[11:38] _You know you’re welcome to stop by. We can get a few DVDs from the rental box._

[11:39] _sure. and then we could not watch them since i plan on proving what i just said_

[11:30] _You’re gross._

[11:40] _yeah don’t remind me. see you soon. xo_

Akechi fell back into the pillows with a laugh, dazed and excited.

The repair team could take all the time they needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to my friends irl for not knowing i create shit like this  
> it’s 6 a.m. goodnight y’all
> 
> *puts on my skeleton costume and bikes down into hell*


End file.
